


The world in my and your eyes.

by Jynjy1999z



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: 80's Music, Band Fic, Everyone Is Gay, Fights, Hurt, Lemon, Lime, Love/Hate, Lust, M/M, Sexy, Slash, Weird Plot Shit, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jynjy1999z/pseuds/Jynjy1999z
Summary: It was pain and lust, hate and love. Dave and Fletch had always felt it, now is time to show it.
Relationships: Andrew "Fletch" Fletcher/Dave Gahan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

A hypothetical smile plays on Fletch's lips. It's uncomfortable, their position on the couch, the unhealthy closeness and the other contiguous gesture.  
Dave watches him, toying with his senses by gently brushing his fingers over him. His body shivers at the mischievous touches as his thoughts warm with the actions. 

Martin is there watching what happens from time to time with subtle sideways without much hope of separating them. In fact it's not his intention, he don't want and he will not separate them. Alan also observes them apathetically, from his point of view it's unpleasant. He dosen't fully understand the way they fight, yell at each other, and then end up in an invisible touching. 

The singer smiles nervously as his hand finally slides down the front of the jacket apologizing for the fabric of it. His fine hand runs along part of Fletch's chest, in a light innocent review he can hear the keyboard player's racing heart. 

He has hit the nail on the head, keeps him from flirting. The redhead uses the same trick, tries to explain in a professional way why the jacket, what material it's made of. His hand brushes Gahan's causing the singer to sigh as he meticulously removes his fingers from it. 

—So...— Alan mentions sitting next to Dave —What are you doing tonight?— The chestnut tries to distract him from his apparent interest in Andy by making the singer's dark eyes fall on him. With a subtle half turn, the youngest laughs with that sound that Wilder loves to hear, the apparent happiness of the black-haired man is a tonic for his momentary bitterness.

—Don't you know then? Andy? you're going to accompany me to an interview tonight, right?— With the back of his palm, Gahan gives him a gentle blow on the left shoulder making Fletch wince with fright

—Martin didn't tell you?— The keyboardist hesitates as the blond twists against the wall, pretending to ignore his friend's comment on the guitar.

—No. Mart doesn't talk to me much these days— Alan leaves his discontent in plain view as he takes a cigarette from his pocket

—I didn't think it mattered. It's just an interview— The guitar strings sound tortured as Gore's fingers travel through them

—Doesn't...matter?— Wilder raises an eyebrow wondering if Mart is dumb or he's playing dumb. Isn't the uncomfortable situation happening in the place remarkable? Dave never behaves like that, much less with Andy

—It will only take a few minutes. Maybe not half an hour— explains the taller man, standing up from the couch.

—I don't promise coming back— Gahan explains with a whimsical grin.

—You have to— Wilder rumored with jealousy included.

—Come on Al, give me a rest tonight— begs the black-haired with puppy eyes

—Don't worry Wilder, I won't lose him— Andy laughs with the smile the musician hates to see. The extreme confidence together with the pedantry in a single gesture causes discomfort

—I can't escape Andy, he's too cunning to be distracted— the singer snorts.

Martin smiles from the corner of his lips as if an idea is crossing his mind, he remains silent under the shadow of the guitar.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dave hums to himself as he recognizes his clothing. Most of leather and with exaggerated details. At the end of the day, everything inside Depeche Mode is a smile, leather clothes as well and the eternal halo of successful young people. Alan walks into the dressing room, looking unfriendly. 

—What you think you're doing?— He replies angrily with crossed arms. 

—What are you talking about, Alan? I haven't done anything— the singer defends himself by choosing a light jacket for the occasion. 

—Oh no? And that game of fingering?—The chestnut snorts, slamming the door. Dave smirks shamelessly, Wilder's jealousy is nothing more than an impulse to rush off on an adventure. The youngest sighs without an answer. 

—Are you with him now?— The musician asks, his gaze fixed on Gahan's figure. Basildon's boy laughs taking a dark t-shirt, Wilder is a possessive master and he knows it watching those angry blue orbs. 

—No. You don't seem to know Fletch after so many years— the dark-haired yawns bored in Alan's anger 

—I don't know him as I thought. He was paying you back, apparently— the older muttered haughtily. 

—You're jealous of nothing, Al. He never told me anything that makes me understand something else, he's a gentleman— Dave takes off the shirt he's wearing and then unbuttons his pants

—The devil dresses like a gentleman— the musician can't bear the idea of seeing him lively, with a scathing glow in his eyes. He had plans for the night, so many years together made Alan a connoisseur of the singer's expressions —David ...— Gahan freezes at the soft but lingering grip, Alan's hand gripping his wrist with a slight tremor 

—What?— He asks, terrified when he sees the death expression of the chestnut.

—Don't do it—

—You're paranoid. Don't do what?— asks the surprised singer

—Don't you dare...You can't— Wilder has lost his mind or so Dave thinks. If it is jealousy it has gone far, if it is fear then... It's too little

—Why you're so concerned about what I do with Fletch? We had gone other places together and you never behaved like this before—

The blue-eyed man makes an ironic sound from his throat

—You didn't touch him or he to you.—

—A lot of people touch me more than they should, you don't get jealous then, do you?—

Alan gasps hopelessly, letting go

—You can't, you'll hurt me if you do it— the musician's voice had sounded hurt, almost broken

Dave puts on the shirt in his hand looking in the mirror, spying on the reflection of his devoted lookout as well 

—Al, I adore you and you know it. I don't want to hurt you— with a charming smile the vocalist turns around

—But...?—

—Nothing happens with Andy, it never happened and it never will happen, Ok?— The black-haired man interrupts.

The chestnut can't choose between the two voices within it, one begs him to trust while the other tells it not to cause he will get hurt.  
His only hit is to embrace the singer with spectral fear. It's not about possession but about love.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Andy is enthusiastically combing his hair, the mirror in the room is large enough to reflect his entire body, but the redhead sits in a chair that Mart has given him.  
Martin always thinks about him and the many ways to make him feel good. He's been acting strange lately. Andy has no right to recriminate his best friend's attitudes even when they concern him and should be aware of the changes around him.  
A confident smile mark his expression lines.

—Are you ready?— the blond watches him from the open door as Andy goes over and over his orange locks with relative joy.

—Almost. I don't know if Dave is already dressed—

Martin gives a little sigh of discomfort

—You should go check—

Fletch laughs meekly as if it were a joke on him but Martin has used a suspicious tone of irony that his friend is not able to understand

—I don't think so, you will know when Alan comes out of the dressing room—

—You should practice some dialogue. The interviewer is an idiot— Martin complains clinging to the back of the chair watching Andy through the mirror

—I'll see what I can do but if Dave accompanies me, all the attention will be for him—

—Why you say that? You're just interesting as he is— Martin's fingers travel down Fletcher's straight shoulders on top of his jacket.

—Yes, of course— Andy snorts with a jocular sound

—You have become an intelligent and attractive man— assures the blond, caressing him lovingly.

—Smart maybe, now attractive...— the ginger guy puts his glasses in a drawer

—You're not the shy kid at school anymore, you grew up a lot. You are confident, pretty—  
Gore was proud of his friend and it was because of all the boundaries that he had broken.

—You changed too, we both did. I kinda miss when we were together—

—For example what?— The guitarist's mood rises for a minute when he remembers the tender adolescent

—You know, go to the square, have a drink at the bar— says Andy getting up from his chair.

—Listen to your vinyls, do the church work— Mart continues, following him with his eyes.

—Waiting for the train, fighting with the little guys in the street, complaining because Mrs. Gertrude didn't pay us enough to prune her garden—

They both laugh at the memory of their adventures together, long ago that kind of trust was gone. Somehow the gap widens.  
Andy is realistic, he knows that sooner or later they won't be together anymore. Mart is somewhat cheerful and has the fantasy that everything comes back in time. They are a strange combination that has no equal.

—Take care of yourself, yeah? Don't fall into Dave's web—

Fletcher is embarrassed laughing an awkward laugh

—You're crazy, he only has eyes for a few things besides it's silly to think he could see me that way. I am his opposite and we always argue—

—Andy— the blonde stops him with one hand. —Just be careful, okay?— the keyboard player observes his expression lines, he's not playing games.

—Don't worry, you know how much he hates me— The peaceful expression on his face isn't enough to calm Martin down but it's maybe because it's about something else. Dave is partly one of the things that worries him and yet there are other ghosts hovering over his peaceful complexion, the band is in an uproar with certain hints of dislike for one another.

—I also know how much he loves you— replies the blonde giving him a gentle blow on the shoulder

—Andy, he's waiting for you in the car— Wilder enters suddenly, breaking the lovely moment

—Well, see you guys soon— Fletch says goodbye to take the hotel corridor. He is almost certain that the night ahead will be one of the most boring of his life. Watching Dave as he speaks endless lines drawn at the last minute from his sleeve, hitting a few comments right, and finally indulging Gahan's whims.

The keyboardist begs for it to be one of those nights where the singer indulges himself with a few drinks and some attractive woman to come back as soon as possible.

The redhead thinks about it in detail, it's not necessary that they end up in a bar, if some pretty girl in the production caught Dave's attention it would be enough since the black-haired man had transformed into an attractive man. It would be simple since the women looked like butterflies dazzled by the exaggerated brightness of the singer.

If this was about patience then he could go the extra mile and take a little out of his reserve.


	2. Chapter 2

Andy finally makes his way down to the parking lot, Dave's vain car now looks different and all thanks to the roof.  
The singer plays with the keys and he's whistling a melody. He stops when he sees Fletch walking slowly.

—Where's the chauffeur?— Asks the ginger man, surprised to see only Dave

—I fired him. You're not wearing your glasses tonight?—

—Did you fire him? Why?— hesitates the keyboardist looking at the car

—Because he was an idiot, he almost ran over a few pedestrians in the street—

—Martin and Alan know?— Asks Fletch, a bit irritated.

—Alan knew it immediately and Martin knew it a few hours ago, you are the last to know— Gahan smiles as if it were a joke as he opens the driver's door

—You shouldn't do things behind our backs, we're a band, you know?—  
Fletch's steps now take an aggressive pace as he approaches the back door

—No, no. You coming with me— laughs the black-haired man from inside the car, opening the passenger seat door

—Why?— Andy frowns.

—Because I hate drive alone, if Mart or Al traveled with me they would travel like that—

Fletch huffs as he gets in the car, Dave's smiling face greets him as he fiddles with his shirt sleeves

—What? Why the happy face?—

—We never travel alone, we're never alone— murmurs the black-haired man, caressing the wheel delicately, studying the keyboardist's reactions.

—Bravo, Sherlock. Can we leave now?— the red-haired answers jaded causing an uncontrollable laugh in Dave

—A long time ago we did go out together, I remember when we went everywhere — it's a tender memory that makes him feel innocent at some point

For Andy it's a waste of time, remembering banal things brings a strange sense of loss.  
Street lights momentarily illuminate the interior of the car as they exit the parking lot.

The ginger guy leans back in the seat while the singer lightly steps on the accelerator. The streets look cold, the few people who walk on both sides of the pavement let out a warm mist visible to both.  
Dave feels so distant from people and so close at the same time.

—You're good? Martin is really worried about you— Andy speaks suddenly, observing him with his big blue eyes that remind the youngest two beautiful lanterns. 

—I am at the peak of my career, I'm young, I have a beautiful son and a stunning girlfriend. Good friends and more money than I can spend. Does it seem as if something is missing?— A gesture of false joy is implanted in his face. It's a gesture Fletch recognizes, he's seen that face a thousand times and still has a hard time getting used to it. 

Andrew nods with his own sound pretending to believe the lie that Gahan tells himself every day in front of the mirror. The keyboard player internally wonders how he can be so powerful and weak at the same time. 

Words are few and not very pleasant. Dave is disturbed by issues that Fletch does not want to address, physical issues, other emotional ones. The singer is a whirlpool of lust and feelings lately. Andy hush his own criticism, it's that woman. That woman who is taking him to the brink. 

Sooner or later she will break him, Gahan is not strong enough to withstand the pressures to come. Love, love is a poison that corrodes his interior or so Mart thinks in his unappreciated opinion. 

Alan does not give many opinions lately, the few that he has internally are secret from the three of them and if he says them he communicates them only to David. 

For Andy love is a spell that handles souls like little pieces of ownerless silk. Gahan is in love with the one that is his sentence but who is he to judge it? He prefers to bite his lips in the face of personal issues that haunt him but do not concern him. After all, the singer is just a friendly stranger with whom they share work, one more partner. 

—What about you?— The black-haired man finally whispers, holding his fingers tightly to the wheel with a fatal anxiety.

—Does it matter what happens to me?— Ironically, the keyboardist answered, sounding unhappy.

—Don't say that, Mart adores you and Alan talks about you too— The younger man's charming gaze is fixed on the rearview mirror.

—Surprise me, what does Wilder say about me?— Andy gasps hopelessly at the musician's apparent antipathy

—He says you feel nervous, that you are losing control but I have no idea what he was referring to— Gahan smiles thinking that with the act he will calm Fletch's discomfort but the keyboardist sighs exhausted

—Well, when it comes to control we're all losing our cool lately. He looks neurotic— the red-haired prisoner of his pride is scathingly defending himself

—Don't tell me, his jealousy quash me, he's worse than Theresa— laughs the singer but Andy doesn't and the feeling of discomfort fills the car

They are about to fight... Dave knows this because Fletch presses his hands against his own thighs and his calm mouth is pursed in an unfriendly gesture.

—Come on Fletch... You're gonna be mad at me now?—

The redhead looks at him with more apathy and a little pity at the same time.

—I can't fight you, it's forbidden for me or Alan will beat me to death. You hooked up with a jealous man— the sentence that leaves his mouth produces a comical thrill.

Now who is not smiling is Dave and he has reasons, the way to the studio seems eternal, the voices are turned off; they both hush their mutual opinions until Gahan brings out a nuisance.

—Why you hate me?— He asks on the edge of a hidden sadness

Fletch's face pales and it isn't from shock.

—You're not my hero but I don't hate you... In fact there was a time when I loved you— Andy clears his throat embarrassed by what he just said, Dave is the cause.  
The singer remains silent as he spots the studio's light sign. At last, he sighs in relief.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The interviews were subtle offenses towards the band, doubts of Martin's morality and useless fillers. Andrew is tired of journalists unnerving him.  
He opens the car door with an angry huff, practically flinging himself onto the seat waiting for Dave.

—Well, at least you're not angry with me anymore— assures the singer, closing his door gently

—I'm really not in the mood, David. I don't want to fight with you, just let's go—

The youngest heeds him by starting the engine, the fuel gauge needle dances to a low point.

—I have to fill the tank, mate. Maybe buy some cigarettes— assures the black-haired man, feeling his jacket since the lighter is in his chest pocket.

—Buy some condoms too— Andy comments ironically but the phrase is anything but funny

—Why? Do you have plans for tonight, Fletchy?— Dave jokes pressing the clutch

—In case Alan wants to fuck you to make sure he's the only one who makes you feel good in bed— the redhead crosses his arms on his own whim

—Then I have to convince Martin. He's dynamite in the room—

Andrew watches him for several seconds before laughing nervously. He hates to admit it but Dave has stolen a laugh from him.

—Jesus— the older man murmurs, covering his face with both hands

—Don't provoke me if you don't want to hear the truth— The black-haired man blushes sliding the car on the asphalt again.

—Let's not talk about that— denies the tallest with one hand in the air.

—Okay, let's talk about sex. If you want to talk about it, we'll do it, talk I mean— the baritone smiles maliciously

—What about Alan? How does he make love?— doubts Fletcher with red cheeks

—Alan is romantic, you know, old-fashioned. Enjoy and make enjoy—

—I guess Martin gives you what you want— the keyboard player teases, biting his lower lip.

—Martin is wild and that's why I like him, he doesn't care if he has to put all of himself to get where he wants to go. He's brave—

He doesn't know why but the confidence in Dave's voice gives him goose bumps.

—And you?— Finally doubts the redhead with the crimson face in nerves

—You wanna know? Why don't you try and you take off my pants?— Gahan proposes in a scoundrel tone entering the service station

The member of Fletcher vibrates in his underwear at the sentence. If Gahan is playing he has gone far.

—What a joke, Dave— Andy mentions rubbing his hands.

—Who said it's a joke?... You could even make me feel good, I can give you what you need— the talented singer murmurs in a lustful tone with wet lips. Andy falls silent at his own idiocy. His phallus moves under momentary arousal. Gahan knows how to excite both genders and has put his charm to the test with him.  
The youngest gets out of the car without another word.  
Leave the keyboard player behind to make him think.

Andy lets a contained gasp escape his mouth as Gahan's perfectly hand-made body drifts away.

It's illogical and erratic. Why would he offer himself in such a fair way to him? There has never been an intimate connection to propose a night. No no no. He must strenuously refuse as it would break the thin truce with Alan. If he knew it the problems inside Depeche Mode would not end. He had to refuse... Even when he felt the urge to accept whatever came from Gahan's lips.

Their ideas crossed leaving a knot of doubts. He didn't have enough time to study the pros and cons. Was it good or bad? Was it a joke or was it really a proposal? Why him and why at that moment? When everything seemed to be made of fragile glass.

The black-haired man returns laughing with the manager of the small gas station, nothing new. Just Dave charming the whole world.

—Have you thought about it?— He asks without any kind of shame as he closes the door but opens the car window.

—Stop shitting it, buddy. Now I know you want Alan to beat me up—

The youngest laughs taking a bill out of his pocket

—Maybe you deserve it, look how you treat me. You will make me beg, won't you?— Dave's unoccupied hand goes to his thigh, making Andy look at that hand like someone looking at the face of an angel.

—That's it, you got it full and purring— smiles the boy near the window

—Oh, you are a heaven. Tell me, Nick my laddie, do you know a nearby hotel?— asks the black-haired man, handing him a juicy tip through the window

—There are many surrounding areas, but all of them are second-hand. If you want to find some first-class ones, I suggest you go downtown. The closest is a few blocks away, the Evenoy. Nothing very fancy but decent—

—Thanks boy, have a nice night— Dave greets with keys in hand  
The young man walks away with a silent gesture

—I envy you, you know?— The keyboardist rumored in anguish.

—And why is that?— The platinum eyes of the black-haired man hide under the blanket of eyelashes he possesses. Andy realizes that Dave has one of the most beautiful looks he has ever seen. In fact, he had forgotten his eyes, he has the habit of wearing sunglasses hiding that infallible weapon

—It's so easy for you to make friends—

The singer's confident smile is present as he starts the car again

The ginger guy is silent prisoner of the varied emotions that his partner makes him feel. The proposal floats in the air like a tension that keeps them on the sidelines.

—It's nice— he clarifies, approaching Evenoy as if it doesn't matter but Andy can't get rid of the feeling inside.

—Stop here— he begs in a desperate gasp  
Dave doesn't ask him to repeat the phrase. He stops meekly with the gesture of someone who has won a game.

—Change your mind?— Mutters the other, turning off the lanterns while Andy sighs free from having to pretend

—Show me what you can do— the red-haired asks lustfully, making Gahan slide flirtatiously inside the car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again. I wanted to inform that this fic will have a bit harsh themes, mention of drugs, uncensored sex, rude language; Unlimited bisexuality and everything that can be expected of me, I don't know. I am in the process with this gem, who knows what I will write from now on. You are warned.


	3. Chapter 3

The room is small, tiny compared to those that are usually taken in high-class hotels.  
The curtains are patterned in flowers, the blankets are a cheap material that Dave recognizes by rubbing it between his hands.  
The rug brings back vague memories of his old home. The bedside table has a lamp that looks like it's made of paper. At least the bathroom is decent.

Andy makes sure there is indeed hot water in the shower. Close it to dry his hand with the towel from the bathroom furniture 

Dave takes off his jacket, his shoes. The rings, bracelets and the cross that he wears around his neck. Even he's not sure of the existence of God, it gives him some modesty to use a religious symbol when... He must address a situation like that

The ginger man comes out of the bathroom, sighs in a weary mood from the whole process that must pass.

His lips close, seeing the singer get on the bed with only his pants and shirt gives him a shock of electricity inside. The keyboardist lets his impulses come to the surface when he moves his jaw in a strange movement causing a laugh in the mouth of the other

—What's going on with you?— Dave laughs but there's no words in Fletch's mouth. The redhead approaches clenching his fists 

Will he really do this? Sitting next to the youngest, he takes off his dark jacket, his shoes while observing the singer as if it were an erotic act 

—Let me do it— begs the other, sliding up to him. Dave's skilled hands cling to his shirt like someone tearing apart a precious object 

The small buttons in a row make the singer growl but there is nothing he can do about it. As the youngest struggles with the buttons Fletch removes his belt, Dave's eyes dart on the long leather object with mischievous thought. 

—Don't tell me now you have the same ideas as Martin— they both laugh morbidly at the assumption.

But Dave knows, he doesn't want games, he doesn't want delays. He wants this and he wants Fletch to make him feel heaven next to hell in one night. With the shirt finally open, the keyboard player's shoulders are exposed. The singer can't help it, his mouth lingers on the red-haired man's neck as he unleashes his fantasies.

He loves hearing the guttural sound coming from Andy's throat as his lips travel down those broad shoulders. The keyboardist caresses Gahan's dark hair with a tender, rough grip as he slides into bed in a warm kiss. This was bad, very bad. It was illogical because Andy was always a strict reference. Even in the worst embarrassing moments due to the attitudes of others, his voice was heard, his opinion counted. He was drunk on Gahan's tongue. 

The youngest's red mouth down to his chest. The singer stops taking off his shirt in an agile movement, tossing it to the ground. He takes off his pants revealing pieces of skin unknown to Fletch. The redhead watches him, each turn his palms take turns into a sensual short film of a few seconds.

Their intimacy takes his breath away. Andy gets rid of his clothes just the same by throwing his pants into a corner of the room. The bulge inside his underwear is obvious. Dave stops at that point, it's something he never thought he would see or do. 

His cheeks turn to a red color almost immediately. 

—Are you scared?— Andy teases, rubbing his own hardness under the fabric. 

—Shut up— the singer gasps with his hand shaking as he dares to fantasize about the member 

The youngest caresses the crotch tortured by waiting. Fletch lets out a groan as he lies fully back on the mattress waiting for the next move. Let Dave get the nerve to think about the next move.

Gahan internally curses his proposal, if he had kept silent now he wouldn't't have to go through this shame. He denies his conscience while in a few seconds he lowers the keyboardist's underwear. 

He wants to laugh but the sense of jocularity is erased by the impression of seeing Fletch's member. A throbbing reddish hardness. So he were excited before he got to the interview? 

The drops of the precum slide thickly down the phallus that vibrates in the hand of the shy black-haired man 

He holds in mind the obscene idea of lowering his tender lips to length but that would lead them to another situation. The youngest doesn't believe that the redhead can stand another minute without being attended to. He slides his closed fist around the penis causing a moan from the other's mouth. His fingers get soaked with every handgrip

He does it out of curiosity, Dave does not need to hold him up, it's the need to hear him enjoying his caresses. His thumb sinks into the keyboardist's glans, Andy shudders as he tightens the sheets under his hands. Dave stops, looks him straight in the eye. Fletch knows what he thinks, it is a question without words. 

—Come on baby, I know you like to be in control but...— the older man smiles between spasms 

—You'd better please me— Gahan complains, lowering his underwear, Andy blushes equally with a wicked laugh.

Somehow it reminds him of that flirty song they had recorded a few years ago. Dave surrenders to will feeling like his body is grasped by the hands of Fletch. The red-haired is confused, stimulated and tempted. How is it possible that he had never realized that Gahan's skin had a unique fragrance?

He makes himself comfortable on the bed, with his body to the back and his phallus in the air. It's disturbing to see the youngest anxious about the act itself.  
The singer dosen't need indications, he rocks on Fletch's thighs waiting to be dilated, however he has the frivolous idea that Andy has never dealt with a situation like that and if he has ever done it with Martin the blond curly beast will not would have given him time to think.

Take the length of the keyboardist forcing the wet member to slide between his buttocks, that should be enough to moisten him or at least help him.

Andrew moans as if he were penetrating him, the simple touch of his most sensitive skin at the entrance of the black-haired man drives him crazy.  
Dave repeats it several times until temptation wins him over. The tip of the member brushes his entrance making both of them gasp in anxiety.

The singer lets the length in a little. A painful spasm forces him to squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lips. Gahan believes that at that point he's more sincere than Martin, the blonde proclaims himself king of pain, sovereign of ecstasy but doesn't take the same risks. Gahan knows dangers, martyrdom mixed with sweet joy.

He falls slowly on the entire member, electricity runs through his body as a scream escapes from his own throat. It hurts, it hurts in a thousand ways. Despite the discomfort, he is unwilling to withdraw.

No evil lasts a thousand years and no man supports his own body when it comes to pleasing himself. He doesn't care if he must go through such a sensation, he moves slowly with lurid groans along the hips.

Andy forgets who to respect, what to obey, or where to be. His veins dilate, every fiber in his body twitches, his muscles tense. He closes his eyes trying to deny the fact that Dave is the cause of the physical reactions he feels but it's impossible to cover it up, he listens to his voice in every moan he gives.

Gahan is desperate, his slight movements become rhythmic swings in which the pain slowly recedes, giving way to an infernal heat.  
Fletch spoils him, lets him do what he craves for minutes that drag on.  
Finally free to do what he wants, the singer moves gracefully as if on stage.

His skin turns unexpectedly, Fletch feels mesmerized as the black-haired practically wiggles on top of him.  
When did all this happen? At what point did Dave feel the need to have him as his property?  
For the keyboardist, Gahan collects lovers for the heck of it; out of need for power. He had said it many times everywhere.

Martin belonged to him shortly after he joined the band, then it was Alan's turn. Both belonged to him because of the weight of the actions and because when they entered his spell bubble they would never leave it.  
For the singer, sex was power, the effective way to control someone. Had Fletch opposed him? Is that why he was blackmailing him with sex now?

Yes, it's his. He belongs to the singer now, and the keyboard player can tell it by the way he looks at him.  
Gahan delivers a wonderful gasp as he feels the opposite phallus touch his special spot. His prostate takes a dead hit every time it's violently dropped. Howl when lunges get powerful

—Easy... let me have fun— Andy whispers. The youngest thinks he knows what he means, he rests a little and the keyboardist's hands hold him.

He penetrates him with the need to see that proud and arrogant young man almost faint between his legs.  
The sounds their bodies emit are blasphemous, Gahan's fiery whispers are sin.  
Fletch notes in the midst of the swirling hurricane that it hasn't been touched even once. Ambition to feel a true ecstasy without the need to masturbate?

—Fuck!...— the black-haired man finally murmurs, going up and down quickly, Andy doesn't even realize that the rhythm changes.  
The keyboardist prefers silence, speaking deconcentrates him from such an arduous task.

He needs to come, to be able to appreciate Dave's outlined body burning on top of him is a beautiful act but he wants to finish it all at once.

—Stop, stop— asks the redhead, Gahan growls in discontent

—What?— His dark eyes lock into his so Fletch chills. The singer dosen't like to be stopped in his ambitions and less when it comes to satisfaction.

—Just... Let me give you what you want, we have to go back and you know it— moaned the oldest 

—What I want?— Dave smiles, gently pulling the member out of him. —Will you make me come in less than ten minutes? I have to see it— laughs the youngest passing a hand through his hair

—Lie on the bed and you'll see— Fletch murmurs, getting on his knees.

—Smug! We will be here all night. You are slow, you always have been— teases the black-haired man lying on the bed

—Not this time, anyway we won't have much to finish— Fletcher's certainty sounds sincere

A deep thrust takes his breath away, it hurts again as well as it causes him joy.  
Andy sinks back into the hottest interior of the younger man, deeper than before; he adds a personal touch to his game: he takes the delicate neck with one hand. It feels strange, being Dave's greatest implement is almost like taking his most powerful tool. Throat owner doesn't care, he's too busy feeling the delicious internal pounding to observe Fletch's fetishes

Andy can understand Martin, the reciprocal feeling of being object and purpose. Of being owner and possession. For a few moments he observes Gahan's body: delicate, masculine; beautiful and smooth. Crystalline sweat runs down each vibrating curve, his red lips part with each thrust. Suddenly, in the cheap light of the paper lantern, he looks so young, almost as if he was still the age at which he joined the band. He's an Adonis broken in half, scented porcelain.

His expression changes, giving rise to howls that fill every corner of the room. Fletcher smiles proudly, Dave comes in seconds against his abdomen in several warm jets with the most libidinous expression the red-haired has ever seen

Fletcher keeps pumping eager to get the same reaction until he gets it. His moan is bitter, Dave receives it pleasantly almost hugging him with both arms.  
Seeing Andy in the pitiful condition fainting from a simple orgasm is funny in a way, he doesn't judge it.  
Now Andy belongs to him, in intimate ways he's his property.

Andy can hardly think when his body burns with pleasure. Gahan's dark eyes fill with sly emotion, the red-haired knows that he entered a physical trap.

He wanted to feel the delights of the world, the time would come to pay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for my spelling and grammar, I'm terrible. Please excuse my lack of tact, wrongly conjugated words, very short or very long paragraphs; descriptions that don't add up. I am a newbie and it should show.
> 
> P / S: How was the scene? Did I at least write the lemon right?


	4. Chapter 4

They both sat so their back rested against the back of the bed. Dave lights a cigarette and the smoke flies over the place.  
Andy looks disinterested, as if what just happened didn't happen. It's an obvious feature on him.

There's nothing to say, there is nothing to do. It happened and they cannot go back in time. It's not that the redhead doesn't feel guilty but he couldn't help it.  
Gahan's lips are pursed, they must go however Andy seems comfortable in bed.  
It's a matter of pride? Is he mad at him?  
The youngest thinks of something to make him react. He smiles with the cigarette dancing between his mouth.

He reaches up to his jacket on the floor to take out a bill he had with him.  
Dave bends it by placing it between his fingers, hands it to Fletcher who awakens from his cathartic silence

—What's that?— Smiles the keyboardist looking for his underpants on the floor

—I was wrong, I came before ten minutes—

They both laugh as Fletch finally reaches the garment

—Was it a bet then? I thought it was a challenge—

—I didn't think you knew anatomy so well, you seem to be passionate about the human body— The malice in Dave's voice produces cold spikes inside his stomach. It's an assumption?

—It's not difficult when it comes to the physical, it's knowing oneself through others— supposes Fletcher getting out of bed

The breeze left by the sudden movement of the ginger guy chills him. The singer huddles inside the blankets watching the older man look for his pants and shirt.

—I'll go take a shower— exclaims the keyboardist, entering the bathroom

Dave is amazed. Andy didn't lock the bathroom? A strange confidence now that he know his privacy

The youngest lies down looking at the ceiling of the place, the sound of the bathroom shower causes him curiosity. Yes, he have seen him naked but... He have never seen Fletch bathe

Curiosity kills the cat. Grab his underwear by putting it on quickly.  
The pain inside him suddenly stops him when he wants to speed up.

—You wanted to have fun, didn't you?— Complains the singer, rubbing his butt on the dark fabric.

—Did you say something?— Andy asks as the sudden steam from the bathroom escapes through the door.

—Nothing at all— the black-haired man snorts, approaching the place.

The bathroom looks more eye-catching, the tiles are a creamy color that pleases the eye, the bathtub is large, the window is adorned with a cotton curtain. The shampoo smells of freesias, a scent the singer had already forgotten.

Even that trust should be loose now, Fletch continues to set limits. The shower curtain covers his naked body much to Dave's disappointment. Only a little of his chest is visible, he's tall. Gahan laughs silently as the water hits the keyboard player's skin.  
His fingers tangle in those red locks as many times as necessary.  
The baritone folds his arms, leaning against the wall with the enduring gesture. The bubbles slide off with the warm water.

In a way Andy's expressions are pretty, it's not something new but it's something he never had time to think about.  
His closed eyes and peaceful expression provide him with an extra attraction.

—What are you gonna tell Alan?— The tallest asks suddenly to the surprise of the black-haired man.

—I'll make up a story to cover us... Cover you— he whispers almost silently through tight lips.

Fletcher thinks about it for a moment as if it were a dilemma but then he went back to scrubbing his own body with gentle movements.  
Andy has always puzzled him, he's been that strange to him since he joined the band. He can't object since the redhead has never told him anything about his personality either, it's a tense mutualism that they both share.

Andy feels Gahan's piercing gaze on him, he knows that he studies him, that he analyzes every word

His body is moistened with every drop that falls from the shower.  
Dave bites his lower lip, if they were more confident he could get into the shower bath, ask him to touch his whole being and be held against the cold bathroom wall but that's something that Mart, or in a forced case, Alan would do.

The red-haired man is calculating, every move he makes is warmly thought out. Gahan is not sure if what happened was contrived.

—Why did you do it?— The singer doubts with a mysterious question.

—And why not? I figured it would be a good excuse to fraternize— teases Fletch as he finishes rinsing

The singer thinks he's honest but he dosen't tell him the whole truth, only part of it

—Could you give me a towel?— Asks the keyboardist, closing the shower

Dave freezes into a reckless laugh, he hands it to Andy as if he was trying to cover up his embarrassment. They hadn't already slept together?  
Why uselessly try to cover something that the black-haired man had already seen?

Modestly Fletcher wraps the towel around his waist, ignoring the other man's playful gaze. Bypassing the hasty carnal desire.

Dave follows him like hummingbird to flower, smiles. Smile and smile in order to reveal a null tranquility that only exists inside his mind.

Drops of water fall from the keyboard player's wet hair as he puts on his underwear, pants, and shoes. The belt too, the object of funny thoughts.

He sits on the bed taking the black shirt to begin buttoning it and praying that he does not make a mistake in a button but when he barely manages to button the sleeves, Gahan's warm body lays on his back. A curious hand runs along part of his chest and a velvety mouth kisses his bare neck

—Come on David... Haven't I given you what you wanted already?— The red-haired whispers between spasms when he feels Dave moan a little in his ear

—I want more... I always want more—

—I know they spoil you too much for being that "Dave Gahan" but you and I know that was the first and last time I touched you— Andy turns his head a bit in order to barely see him out of the corner of his eye.

Dave doesn't answer, instead he shows an ironic gesture as if he knew that it would not be the last time to be touched that way  
Instead he nibbles on one of the semi-covered shoulders carefully and forcefully leaving a small red spot.

A mark...

—You win, I won't pay attention to you again— he answers indifferently.

—I didn't say that, don't change my words—

Dave sighs fed up taking his clothes on the floor, it's a matter of patience

—You love me or not?— He finally hesitates in a hysterical voice.

—I do love you but you can't expect me to show it to you so often— Andy's blue eyes shine for a few seconds

—I don't know why I can stand you— Gahan laughs taking his clothes to the bathroom

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After paying a good tip to the owner of the hotel they left, the man had no idea who they were but he appreciated the gesture.

In the car again the voices fell silent. The night deepens, the streets are empty, the night mist covers part of the place.  
Dave has no idea how to behave. Should they talk? Should they respect the fragile silence?  
Fletch's face shows no emotion, as always.

—You're cold?" The black-haired man murmurs softly as he caresses Andy's shoulder.

—Not really— denies the keyboardist with nothing to add

Silence again... Their silence makes Dave's spine tense. He hates having to deal with situations like that.

—Please, Fletch. We have known each other for years. Why you act like you don't know me?— the singer finally despairs

Andy sighs dizzy in the streets drawn in the dark quickly.

—We were never best friends, were we?—

—Is that why you act like this?—

—How do you want me to act?— Fletch's brow furrows.

—What you gonna say to Martin?— Dave tries to distract himself, avoiding discomfort

—Martin will know, he always discovers the truth when he wants—

The black-haired man believes Andy and Mart share a dangerous trust, but he doesn't object. He nods, acting an icy calm.

—Anyway, the one I'm worried about is Alan—

—I already told you, I'll have to lie to him—

—I think if you beat your eyelashes you will convince him— laughs the redhead

Again guilt invades him but he's not weak to Gahan.  
The singer begins to gather the best excuses he can create. Alan will be suspicious, he knows.

Still he glances whimsically at Andy, as if there is something left to say.  
Fletcher thinks it was a mistake. His body vibrates to be so close to the other.  
There is something new in David, a new naked personality that drives him to fulfill his deep whims.

—Kiss me— orders the singer, stopping at the annoying traffic light, just a bus and some cars circulate ahead

The seconds pass as if they were hours. Fletch experiences a feeling that he had abandoned years ago with the old Andrew: Shyness. Feel some dread and smile from one corner of his smile.

Dave takes the lead, approaches with his eyes half closed, his mouth ready. Gahan's face is exquisite, Andy hates to admit it but he's attracted to him and it scares him. He freaks out when the opposite mouth brushes his making him sigh in surprise.

—We have nothing to lose...— whispers the black-haired man, wrapping his lips at the corner of Fletch's.

The keyboardist doesn't think, moving his lips over Dave's is instinctive. In his mind nothing is drawn, no words that can explain what he feels in the moment. It's the soft warmth of Gahan embracing his, accepting the closing of the night.

It's sweet, it's bitter, it hurts and it's pleasant. He's tender and rude. It's love and it's hate. Andrew knows they walk a fine line, he just prays that line doesn't break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird stuff 🤣🎀


	5. Chapter 5

Alan paces here and there in the parking lot. They have taken longer than normal which means they had problems.  
Maybe an argument? Gahan flees like a small child when things are not in his favor.  
He misses him, Alan doesn't deny it. Let a confident smile escape thinking about the crazy things he have done with him.  
It's a strange need, an uneven relationship. Sometimes it feels like he's unrequited and it's about the singer's changing whims.  
It hurts, it hurts to think that soon he will not remember him.

He sighs in despair looking at the cold walls around the parking lot, equal to the singer's heart: icy and pale.

The sound of the car sliding down the driveway makes his heart pound. Certainly, the pompous car slides back to its original place.  
The engine stops when the key is turned. Andy is the first out, he looks distraught.  
Even his hair is certainly damp, Alan thinks it's natural. He's more concerned about Gahan than the red-haired who slips away without a word.

Dave comes down perhaps a little bit more calmer. Smiles when he see the chestnut with a half smirk on his lips

—Did you wait for me all this time?— The singer asks with a make-up emotion.

—I was worried— admits the musician approaching

—You shouldn't do it, you are obviously tired— whispers the black-haired man caressing him a little.  
His smile is fake, his artificial joy fades at Alan's confused face.

—What happened?— the chestnut asks with no hesitation, without blinking

Gahan shivers and withdraws his icy hand.

—Nothing at all. The interview was good—

But in his gaze something intermingles. Doubt?

—Did you two fought?— Alan insists, pressuring the black-haired man to speak

—No... you see— David begins, his lips positioning in a way that appears to be the expression of someone determined to speak. The musician waits watching him but his mouth remains in the position with a difficult question to solve in mind

—What?—

The youngest is struggling to tell the truth or spit out the imaginary scene he had time to create while he was taking a shower.

He chooses to lie, he had told Fletch that he would cover him up anyway and that means lying.

—We ran into two girls and... You know how bad Fletch feels when it comes to cheating on his girlfriend— the youngest man blurts out under a sigh of mercy —Poor little thing—

—Is that why he have that face and wet hair?— Alan feels relaxed, lets out a whisper hidden between his lips and then blinks in relief.

—Yes, he's sensitive about..— the singer pauses.

—Sex?— Wilder tries to answer. The other nods touching his piercing

—It was really a long night, I wanna go sleep— Dave yawns stretching his arms

Wilder dosen't know why but he feels that Gahan is lying. Either way he lets him go after one exhaustive last look

—Rest you too, let's go. You don't sleep these days— the personal touch of Basildon's talent is to leave a personal mark wherever he goes and this time he shamelessly kisses him hiding nerves

Wilder's lips are moistened, David's mouth is sweet but this time tastes bitter

The only one who can help him is Martin. He gasps hopelessly as he watches him go.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When the ghostly sound of the door closing brings him to reality Dave submits to his own judgment.

—Idiot...— he whispers to himself, turning on the delicate carpet in the room.  
—You really are an asshole... What did you think was going to happen?— He explains to himself, throwing his shoes aggressively to the corner of the room.

He takes off his jacket feeling it drag him to the ground. He leaves it on the bed. Keep spinning until he see himself in the mirror.  
What sadness is reflected in his own being.  
How unfortunate he looks, it's embarrassing for others.

He shakes his head as he walks away from the evil object.  
He need to feel alive. Sleeping with Andy only brought him doubts, grudges and a shaking in his legs that he can't stop.

He sits on the bed reflecting, at least the pleasure was real, it was reciprocal. Fletch enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed his toughness, his inexperience. In a way, the brutality in Fletch's movements gave him all kinds of sensations.  
Alan was an artist, tender and sensitive. Martin was a bit excessive and tyrant but Andy... he... He had taken him in a new way, harsh and demanding.  
He even dared to take him by the neck like someone playing with an artifact.

He wanted to ignore the subject of his manhood but the nasty thought attacks him.  
He smiles sheepishly, blushing at the thought that Fletcher is a little thicker than Martin and a few inches long than Alan.

—Do you collect them now?— He teases himself with a warm face.  
Can't help but think it led to an intense orgasm  
His member hardens when he remembers the way he wiggled on Andy's lap. The memory is still vivid.  
The redhead was gentle even in inaccurate moments.

His legs ache from the intense rattling that he has had to endure, he have certainly been opened more than he imagined but it would serve as learning, in the end Fletcher is one of the many who are lost in his ocean of sensuality. Andrew Fletcher is nothing but a prejudiced prude.

He would like to think that the night means something to him, he must face the reality that behind the beautiful blue eyes there is nothing that moves him, behind his provocative lips there are no kindnesses except reproaches.

He hates him... he's a bizarre character that he must endure with care.

He hates him... And he loves him too. The kiss from the car made his convictions tremble 

—Stop...— he whispers tortured as he closes his eyes but again the sensation comes back to haunt him. That blessed kiss he likes, he likes to think it was real, that it was delivered with care. He knows what's wrong: He feels a slight attraction to Andy. He strokes his hair, wishing   
he had felt a little more of Fletch. He despairs when his needy lips beg him to knock on his door for a second round but thinks it was too much to think about for the other man. He flinches when his hands go over his own thighs. In dismay he takes a bottle of liquor that someone, who no longer remembers, gave him. 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Andy lays back on the bed with the feeling that everything is a nightmare. Really, the redhead wants everything to be the product of his imagination. 

Why? He liked it from the bottom of his being. Dave was a soul tortured by physical need. His hellish hips carried him into dark corners, his legs curled around him like a soggy sheet. He balanced on top of him like an angel being carried into an unsanctified ecstasy. No, there was nothing heavenly about him, only the shape of his physique. Their bodies fit perfectly. A warm wave hits their insides, Fletch growls turning around 

Thinking of him provokes anger mixed with desire. Every time he remembers Dave being fucked for pleasure, Andy wants to kick his door, slap him, and then make love to him again. The ginger guy moans against the pillow, he desires him... 

He desired he could do everything that time did not allow him. He want to caress Dave's porcelain face until his fingers know every shape of his profile by heart. He wants to go down with his lips to his mouth again, to his jaw; to his chin. To his neck, to his chest; to his shoulders and arms. To his nipples, to the line of his abdomen. From there it would be the black-haired decision. 

He had never felt shy but now he had a hard time facing the reality of having to see him the next morning. His perfume was impregnated on his shirt, he brought his nose close to sniff the strange elixir. It smelled musky with the singer's own brown sugar scent. He groans, his belly feeling excited again.

It's not the first time. He remembers when Basildon's talents first came into the band, he blushed several times even though he didn't seem interested in him.  
Over the years everything became suffocating, the interviews, the detailed fans.  
He never had time to create a plan for getting closer.  
Sometimes he could touch him, those caramelized looks that Gahan gave him were more than enough but now... Now they are no longer children, they are no longer those kids who felt nervous from just touching each other.

Taking him was imprecise. Martin has to know.  
If Dave decides to cheat Alan is his personal issue, Andy prefers to tell the blond the truth before he'll be surprised by the jealous whimpers Wilder will launch upon discovering them.

Oh yeah... He's gonna find it out. Fletcher plans to hear him moan between his thighs again, this time, in his own way.  
He dosen't care if he must humiliated himself, if he must cry imploring on his knees, he will have Gahan again on the brink of pleasure. Something tells him he will be lucky, he smiles at his own warm feeling, hugging a pillow sighing for the memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is just my imagination or this chapter is sexier than the last one? 🤣🔫


	6. Chapter 6

Dave wakes up with a fatal headache, the liquor bottle next to him, empty. The light coming through the curtain makes his eyes burn. It's unbearable, he turns around looking at his watch: half past nine in the morning. He growls in discontent knowing he must face his dramas, knowing that everyone is quietly waiting for him at the hotel table. Alan will act like a jealous girlfriend, Martin will be gentle and try to steer him away from dramatic clichés, and Andy will ignore him as if he had never touched him. 

The kiss... The kiss again appears in his aching conscience, his lips are dry, wrinkled. He moistens them with his own tongue, feeling the alcoholic sweetness of the last drops of the liquor. With all his wishes to the contrary he rises, he can barely keep up. He doesn't bother to look at himself in the mirror, he knows he looks bad. He takes off his clothes walking to the private bathroom

He turns on the shower faucet as he steps down with a stifled sigh.  
The warm drops makes him feel strange, his body is wrapped in a warm damp blanket but his insides feel dry. As if it were a flower without enough care.  
He's withered.

With his hands he rests against the bathroom wall while he feels the desire to leave the place and flee. Where? He dosen't know but it dosen't care.  
Think back to Fletch, how he ran away from Alan like a coward, how he didn't confront him.

Did it matter? Andy didn't have to face Wilder.  
Dave tries to get away from those thoughts while thinking about both of them, how different they are.  
And again, thinking about the ginger guy is inevitable.  
Andy has that goofy smile, that pinocchio nose, that raging red hair, and his blue eyes.  
Blue but not like Alan's dark blue. Alan's eyes reflect a sea, a deep ocean with endless secrets, Fletch's eyes were blue like a cloudless sky, like a Sunday sky; clear and sincere.  
The glasses undoubtedly gave him a cheerful, fun touch.

Now his body... It wasn't visible on top of the clothes, his shoulders, his back and his arms were not marked by the shirts he used to wear.

The pants do not reveal his waist, hips or legs.  
Fletch certainly has an amazing butt.  
Dave laughs as the water falls on his face.  
It's a shame, if things hadn't been so murky between the two they would be something else. They would be friends.

Alan is the only one who can understand him now. The musician is the only one who really loves him right now. Despite hurting him Wilder always forgives him and has the vague idea that it will be no different if he discovers his secret.

Why was it so upsetting? It's only one night, it's only one body.  
His hands were impregnated on his body like marks of fire. What was it? Dave complains letting a murmur sound to his displeasure.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Martin takes his cup of coffee, Alan has not come down from his room yet. Only Andy is by his side reading a book while taking small sips of his orange juice.  
Martin studies him from top to bottom, he looks nervous. Although he is impeccable with his eternal gesture of maturity there's something childish in his eyes hidden behind his glasses that are fixed on the pages of the book.

—What's wrong with you?— Asks the blonde taking a piece of the croissant

—Nothing, nothing happens— says the redhead, closing the book, leaving it on the table.

—You can't lie to me— the guitarist clarifies, narrowing his green eyes

—I'm telling you the truth, why would I lie to you?—

—Alan told me you took too long last night— Gore clarifies looking towards the reception.

—You know Dave. Unfortunately he drags me to do what he wants sometimes— Andy sighs, showing a false disgrace.

—You too?— The curly man is surprised 

—Is there something weird about it?— Fletch clarifies, finally drinking his coffee.

He's lying to him and Martin knows it by the way he places his hands, the way he purses his mouth and his gaze avoids him. 

—Andrew, tell me the truth— Gore only mentions his best friend's full name when it comes to a serious matter and now he deserves the wake-up call. 

Fletch feels everything go soft, like a big puddle of mud. He's terrified to the extreme and his cheeks turn red

His gaze hides everything the guitarist should know. Feel ashamed. He's ashamed of what Dave led him to do. Partly it was his fault, that makes him feel worse. Finally he fixes his eyes on Mart's green orbs to reveal part of the truth.

—You did it to him right?— It was obvious. You shouldn't be a genius to see the pressure Gahan exerted around him. 

The songwriter saw it that night where Dave and Andy were playing with their mischievous fingers. It was inevitable to think that sooner or later they would end like this. 

—You're right, I did it— the keyboardist admits with a broken voice. 

—Oh Andy— the other sighs in disappointment 

—I couldn't help it, okay? He hinted at me too many times and flirted with me in the car— 

—Of course he flirted with you! You never realized the way he was looking for you?— Martin clicks his tongue against his palate seeing Fletch's naivety 

—I couldn't help it... But I'm sorry— the redhead gasps in despair 

—It's no use being sorry. You know everything changes now?— the blonde complains, leaning back in the chair —I can't believe it, I knew you weren't strong but... I didn't think you... and Dave— he whispers looking up at the pretty ceiling 

—Don't give me that crap! You too fell into his trap and I don't blame you—

—But you're not me, are you?— Mart asks, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. —You are thinking about him right?—

—No! Of course not. We're only talking about him because you push me, nothing more— Andy defends himself scathingly

His pretty rounded cheeks are colored. He looks around desperate to hide the truth.  
Martin knows why: Alan. He's afraid of what the chestnut may say or do to him.  
Lately he has Dave under his wings, if he found out what the two of them did he would explode in anger, the singer is part of his reality and it is something that Wilder does not tolerate, he does not support that his fragile reality falls apart.

—Does Alan know about this?— Gore doubts, letting out a puff of smoke

—No and I'll ask you not to tell him anything— his best friend begs between cowed whispers.

—I won't give you away if you stop doing stupid things. How could you? Fletch, I thought we weren't doing stupid things anymore—

The redhead shakes his head, he regrets it but he couldn't really help himself.  
Every time he think about it, he feels an inexplicable discomfort, it's physical attraction.  
It's Dave, he's a magnet for everyone who crosses his path and he loves it.  
Andy knows Gahan's wishes by heart.  
He loves his own body, he loves to feel it through other people.  
He is hedonistic, narcissistic, sometimes exotic. Even with all the flaws on top, he's handsome, really attractive.

Andy picks up the book amid the cloud of smoke that Mart creates with the cigarette at his side.  
He tries to focus on the lines of the paragraph but remembers the fierce moans of the raven under his power, in his expressions.

—Shit— the keyboardist murmurs in dismay, Dave's face... Dave's face is divine and he hates to know that he adores it

—What's wrong?— Asks the songwriter, watching 

—I liked Mart, the way it happened. Is that wrong?— asks the red-haired man like a lost child

—Well, you don't have the slightest idea what pleasure is, it's obvious that Dave took advantage of your naivety—

—Hey!— The ginger guy complains but silence soon reigns when he sees Alan going down the stairs

—Good morning, guys— the chestnut greets gently, sitting across from Martin.

—In good mood? Hallelujah— laughs the blond bringing the cup of coffee to his lips

The musician returns the gesture by taking the kettle to pour himself some tea.

—I guess I was exaggerating, Dave is fine so there's no need to worry. I think you did take good care of him— he mentions referring to Fletch who hides behind the book in silence

—Dave is a gentle person, you just have to know how to bring out his best side— the ginger guy says in a regal tone.

—We can't blame you, it never hurts to worry about him, it's your protective nature— Martin takes a piece of toast with the butter knife

—You'll get fat if you keep eating like this— Alan teases, delighting in the guitarist's pretty smile as the smoke from the tea rises to his face.

—Martin never gets fat, it's part of his metabolism to be slim. You would have seen him eat at his house— Andy tries to relax the conversation, still imprisoned by his own shame

—I know, I've seen him eat twice what I eat and look at him, he looks good no matter what—

Is it Andy's impression or the chestnut is flirting with his friend?

—What are we going to do today?— Ends up asking the composer, choosing the sugar cubes

—Ask Dan, when he gets back from his breakfast— the curly one finally clears by taking a bite of the toast.

Finally Dave also comes down the stairs with a less lush countenance than Alan's but elegant as is his custom.  
He's wearing his sunglasses, which gives Martin an idea of the magnitude of the discomfort he brings.

—I won't say "good morning" cause they are not for me— sighs the black-haired man, sinking into the chair

—What happens? You looked animated last night— Alan caresses his shoulder and the singer squeezes the Londoner's hand with a half smile with his own hand

Andy sighs silently staring into the pages unsuccessfully concentrating

—Did you drink too much last night?— Asks the guitarist, examining him with his eyes.

—Yes— is the only thing the singer manages to say stretching his neck

Andy spies him over the edge of the pages with curious eyes silently asking if it's his fault.  
Dave responds with a grimace of displeasure and his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses looking away.  
Andy hesitates a bit before shyly lowering it, dedicating himself unsuccessfully to chat with Martin about his ideas and the producer's new ideas.

This is a civilized war zone, adorned only by the smoky glass vase on the table and the single yellow tulip that brings a touch of life to the gloomy scene


	7. Chapter 7

The awkward breakfast ended when Dan and the press rushed them.  
Alan and Dave had to take a note for the newspaper, Mart an interview for a pompous channel and Andy, alone, had to take the note for the magazine cause they insisted so much on interviewing him.

Sometimes he didn't understand why they insisted on him. What case was there? If the media always ridiculed him.  
Sometimes his interior fought but over time he learned to shut up, to let the storm subside before proclaiming himself the winner.

Now, he had the pending little business with Dave. They should talk to reach an agreement and end all this.  
Certainly the personal affairs between the two of them had never been the best but lying down... It reached another level.

Andy smiles to himself as he thinks that in the midst of all the guilt he feels special, he felt special. What nonsense!  
He? special? He wasn't even special in his family and he would be to Dave who had his own harem wherever he went. Irony.

His thoughts are interrupted when a timid knock sounds at the door even when it's open.  
It's Dave ...

He looks somewhat embarrassed to be inside his room and at the same time searches his eyes from time to time with a little shyness.

—Now is when I say "It's not you, it's me. Let's be friends" and it's all over— laughs the ginger man making Dave smile equally.

—It's not exactly what I thought but maybe it's something like that—

—Tell me— the redhead whispers, closing the cabinet drawer

Gahan closes the door with a soft, almost silent movement, then sits down on the bed.  
Andy ignores him, continues uselessly rummaging through his things like someone looking for something important.

—It's clear it was from both sides, right?— Mentions the terrified black-haired man.

Fletcher smiles to himself as he hears that immature tone leave the singer's lips. He will never accept the blame. Will he? He's too self-centered to admit a mistake and too pretentious to ask for forgiveness, although Fletch admits some responsibility.  
It was inevitable to fall for the polished charms of the youngest.

—Of course— admits the keyboardist, abandoning his phantom quest to sit next to him. He gives him a friendly gesture and then remains in static silence.  
Dave is on the edge of his own breath not knowing what to say or do.  
They are supposed to agree to never again treat each other like in the fateful night, however when he sees his tender and sweet gaze on him again, he feels how every inch of his body softens.

His mouth is close... His hands are away.

In this hypocritical society, things are perfect. So what is this powerful need to run to the forbidden?  
David always considered himself a rebel, a revolutionary and was lucky to find a band that shared his same interests.

Andy loved correctness, political order since he was a child, but lately the world has become depressing under a false veil of equality that did not exist.  
In a way, Fletch lost his sense of righteousness, allowing himself to be influenced by Mart and his strangely chaotic worldview.

Dave is carried away by the momentary need leaning over to catch Fletch's mouth but he rises from the bed, refusing to accept the other's will.

—I though we would do peace— 

—Yeah, that's how the song goes. I thought we would do something else— the jocular singer straightens up without any remorse.

Again the blessed expression. His dark eyes are drawn with desire.  
In a way, and even he says he feels sorry, he begs him again to touch him.  
Gahan asks him to caressing him again. Andy scolds himself for being naive, for not denying him entry to his room.

Gahan's physical figure magnetizes him. It looks tempting, like a piece of heaven he can have during their sinful minutes.  
Perhaps in the tender stage of teenage stars he could never study his figure in detail but now with the leather clinging to his skin there's nothing hidden.

His hips, his waist. His body docile to the delight of the world. Fletch sighs in denial of the mutual pleasure they share.  
He sways charmingly to see the suffering in the dismayed expression of Martin's best friend.

—You want it, right? You want this?— he gasps stroking part of the redhead's chest with great effort.

Fletcher must decide. Should he jerk away and ignore him for the whole day or should he indulge?

It would be simple, lay him down on the bed and start touching his beautiful face. Kissing each line of his person until exhaustion to savor each piece.  
Sigh between ragged gasps as the annoying garments fade between his hands.

—Why do you care so much? It doesn't change much, the reality I mean— sighs the oldest while Dave squeezes part of his black T-shirt between his fingers.

—You think I care? Reality? No, dear Fletch— reports the singer as a perfect politician —All I care about is what you can give me, last time... We couldn't cover some topics, did we?— 

The redhead denies his eyes, looks out the window, biting his own tongue so as not to answer him. Of course they didn't. 

Kindly he take both of Gahan's hands to place them close to their owner.

—You must learn, not all people are bribable. You're beautiful but ordinary— he laughs, returning his eyes to him.

His eyes speak, his dark irises have him in their sights. It's a duel of gazes in which Andy always loses by letting himself be carried away by his eternal impulses.

Flercher feels a tingle creeping up his spine as every corner of his soul begs him to just touch him. Gahan smiles from the corner of his lips arching an eyebrow

—Soon or later you will come back to me. Everyone does— the raven-haired man hesitates to touch him or leave the tension in his mellifluous condition.

Andrew predicts severe problems with this but he's right, he will return to him when the cold night and the alcohol is not enough to drown his laments. He will return to him when his skin murmurs that he needs him to feel an internal convulsion.  
He will return to him when no one is looking from the corners and he can study every expression of pleasure Gahan can make.

Then he will return, when he has the need to burn in the flame of the devilish black-haired man who now looks at him willingly, without the need for words.

—We'll see that— he ends up sentencing by leaving the room.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After the interview, Fletch hesitates. Before long, Gahan got into his head, leaving him no room for himself.  
He walks alone in the street and his hands are placed inside his pockets.

Sometimes he thinks Martin was too nice. Actually, he feels he shouldn't be there but he's grateful to whoever exists beyond his own wills for being there. Without him many things would probably have fallen apart.  
The streets are full of people and they all pass by him as if he were a ghost. He's recognized for being the shadow of Martin wherever the songwriter goes but is not recognized on his own merits. Sometimes that makes him sad without taking it to the extreme.

Someday he thinks he will break. Some day far to come he will split like a paper napkin.

He will slowly go mad in the poison of the world.  
He plans it, yes. He plans to leave, leaving everything behind, including leaving Mart who can't be away from him for more than a day.

He will also leave him at the mercy of fate.  
He will leave Alan in charge of what is necessary, he will leave Dave alone in his fantasy world.  
He will not be anyone's puppet because one day, only one day, he will be free to choose.

Grainne was right about that: Depeche Mode didn't make it Fletch, Depeche Mode was a band because he was also there giving the best of himself. His younger years in which he could have taken an unexpected turn were exhausted with tours and journeys. With every photo shoot, with every interview.  
His threads would sometimes loosen and then the apocalypse would come, as a lunatic smiled among the crowds believing that the idea was impossible as his decisions and options were considered through the other members of the band.

He greatly respected Alan despite their personal fights, despite Wilder's discontent with his performances.

Maybe he was punishing himself harshly, maybe succumbing to Dave was a direct order from his mind, from his rational side.  
Loving him was inevitable but making love to him was a decision of seconds. On the one hand it was curiosity, on the other it was obligation.

Dave wanted it so what reason did he have to resist? After all he was Fletch, the submissive, obedient; placid and trustworthy Fletcher. That almost burlesque character that became a cyclonic need for the three of them.

He was Martin's advisor, Alan's antagonist, and Dave's buffoon.

Nothing more was expected of him, only his silent obedience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My baby Fletch is not a toy 😭🤧😞


	8. Chapter 8

Dave sighs looking for Alan between the hotel rooms. Had he stayed at 109 or 114? He don't remember, so he knocks from door to door since Wilder would never be wise to say "Yes, here I am. Come see me"  
No, Alan would ignore the fact of being his best friend leaving him on the edge of doubt.

Was he doing it on purpose? Was he punishing him?

Martin would go find Fletch from the interview. Dave was sure he would have him in bed begging him to let him taste his sweet body again. The black-haired man was too confident in his luck, especially in his pretty face.

When he knocks on the last door, he thinks again of Andy's harsh moans, of how it drove him crazy. He has had obscene fantasies ever since he met Fletcher's entire body.  
He would like to take the rocket between his legs and dominate it with his lips, savor it with every inch swallowed until he is brought to the brink of pleasure.  
Would it be too much to ask him to come for him? Could he play his wicked games with him? It worked great with the fans.

He would love to see Andy's face if he offered to penetrate him. Fucking him wouldn't be exactly classic or expected but it would be a lovely challenge. Would he believe him if he told Fletch that it would provoke never-before-vivid sensations? If he made him know hidden corners never worked before?  
He sighs in despair excited in his own longing.

He would like to see Andy lose his breath or hear him moan his name at the height of the moment.  
Maybe it was a figment of his imagination or it was his little friends.  
It was on the edge of a large black hole.

Alan opens the door as soon as he finishes combing his hair to see this panting Dave on the brink of unconsciousness.

—Dave? What are you doing here?— the musician smiles meekly but Gahan gently pushes him into the room

Wilder can sense the singer's troubled aura as his breath hitches as he closes the door.

There are no words only actions, the singer flirtatiously rushes towards him kissing him with desire.  
The youngest's hands roam down the chestnut's back, up his arms as his mouth forces him to close his eyes to let himself go.

—What happens? Did you wake up in the mood today?— The blue-eyed man speaks feeling the burning kisses on his face

—Kiss me please, just touch me— begs the lascivious baritone obsessed with brushing the keyboardist's lips over and over again

Alan doesn't know why but the words are orders so he takes him to the bed where he places it carefully. Dave waits like someone deserves a reward between the pillows.  
Wilder takes off the jacket he has been wearing just a few minutes ago, getting into the black-haired game.  
Let him take control with gentle grips and fiery sighs.

Although Dave has a different idea: he turns around leaving his "Charlie" down while observing him from his point of view.

Wilder arches his eyebrows in surprise, in a long time Dave hadn't been the... Master, it's been a long time since he was the servant.  
Gahan's gray eyes show the burning flame that he carries within, his personal bonfire that bound him with mysterious wanderers on his way.

His hot lips travel to his neck as the short kisses leave a feeling of doom.  
His hands rush to the musician's pants who twists in bed when he feels Gahan's tyrant fist eagerly reviewing his length still inside his underwear.

Something happens to him. David James Gahan would never sleep with someone without flirting. They had not even talked so much at breakfast and now a few hours later he has him on top of him totally agitated.

—Wait... What's wrong with you?— asks the musician, observing him with some surprise

—Nothing, nothing out of the ordinary. Can't I touch you? Are you not in the mood?— the singer counterattacks between gasps

Alan shakes his head as he pulls Dave's hand out of his pants.

—I just wonder why you would come here with that level of excitement? It's eleven in the morning and you already have your hands between my legs— the blue-eyed smiles with a touch of evil

Gahan winces and then sets Alan free on the bed by sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

—Dave... What's wrong?— the chestnut insists, placing a friendly hand on the other's shoulder 

—You don't love me anymore?— he sighs with a tone of voice that shudders Wilder 

—Don't say that... You know how much I love you— the Londoner approaches placing his face on the other's shoulder 

—It's not the same anymore... Between us I mean— Alan thinks it is a product of exhaustion. The tour is very complicated and Dave is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Feel him tremble under his physical contact. 

It's a small firefly in a huge world. Perhaps he's tired of dealing with journalists and reporters. The product of the deterioration in his personal relationships also affects him. Divorce is already a reality and that beautiful lady that he have just met will be the new owner of his life.

Alan sighs without drawing the attention of the anguished singer. 

—Come, lie down next to me. It's not sex you need— declares the chestnut lying down again Gahan watches him from his sad state to pay attention to him and lie down next to him. 

His head is on his chest as he listens to the soothing heartbeat of the musician. His perfume catches him as his fingers travel down the older man's chest. Is that love or friendship? Or the mixture of both? The black-haired man does not know it but it feels good, that someone understands or can manage to calm the sadness in his heart is a relief. Alan's calm breathing makes his chest rise and fall in a calm way, somehow making him a bit drowsy. All that crazy excitement is erased by the cuteness that Wilder can have inside. Yes, even though it looks tough on the outside it's really cute on the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frustrated Dalan 🗡🍑


	9. Chapter 9

Martin didn't find Andy, he had left according to the production by his own and had not wanted anyone to be called or a taxi.

The blond had no choice. Inside the hotel he can hear again Dave's voice laughing in time with Alan's voice.  
They're both in their sweet little scene that they never get out of these days.

He sighs sick of having to be the one to think for Andy.

—You found him?— Alan doubts when he doesn't see the ginger one arriving

—No, he finished the interview and left there. I'm worried— Gore assures, ruffling his curls.

—Don't worry, he will surely be back soon and if not, we can call the police— says the chestnut from the door of his room

—I don't know, Andy never behaves like that— After heaving a sigh, he observed Dave stubbornly, partly it's his fault and he knows it. He would like to slap him for being so selfish and taking his friend to the extreme

—Should I cancel the interview with the channel?— professionally asks Wilder with the perfect hair, the bohemian look

—Talk with Dan. Tell him Andy didn't came back— Martin squeezes his eyes with his fingers as a small migraine hits him. The idea of being late is unacceptable but if Fletch was walking on the streets of the city there was nothing the guitarist could do

Alan tries to comfort him by stroking one of his shoulders in silence and then walking to the elevator leaving Dave and Martin alone.

The black-haired man feels uncomfortable but hides a puny smile with the other.

—Why did you do it?— Reproaches the guitarist severely

—So he told you?— Dave smirks

—Of course he told me, we don't have a sick relationship like yours with Alan— the green-eyed hisses angrily, pushing Gahan into his room without saying anything.

—He wanted it too, you knew that, didn't you? You saw it that night— laughs the singer to lazily lie down in bed

—You were chasing him, you goading him. And all for what? Aren't all the people who pass through your life satiating you? Should you take him too?— the guitarist's voice sounds serious, makes Dave smile since Mart always sounds like a child, now when he's talking about Andy he has a masterful speech

—It must be cause I feel empty. He was a drop in my glass— examines the black-haired man watching Mart between the blankets

—You're only interested in what happens to you in this world? Jeez— Gore shakes his head.

Dave doesn't understand Martin's reaction. He too had ended up in his sheets and at the time he enjoyed it without reproach. Andy certainly enjoyed it, while at the same time being rude to him, he also worried about not hurting him. 

Gore is furious deep inside him. Dave ignores him yawning when he certainly should be worried just like him. No, he doesn't feel the kind of concern that Mart does for Fletch, Andy comes back anyway, he always comes back. 

Although he certainly looked lost, his gestures were not lying: He was chained to them. Gahan savors the air as he thinks about the next step, yes.   
He won't let Fletch go until he get the last drop of nectar he have for him. It's an aperitif that he cannot do without. 

Maybe his tactic is old-fashioned, he should try being nice, friendly. Long ago his kindness helped him with certain personal problems thus achieving a balance within the band. Back in his teenage days, things were fixed with a smile or a punch. Would he have to use either or both at the same time? He would love Andy to spank him hard, to use those long hands to spank him over and over until he can't feel his butt anymore. 

His libido had shot in the direction of the clumsy redhead who, not being strong enough, fell between his legs glad to have him for himself in a selfish hour. 

—You are not going to do anything? You don't even care if you hurt him or not. I can't believe how innocent Andy was in trusting you— grumbled the blond taking a little walk from here to there in the room

—What happens between him and me are our business, you may be his best friend but you can't tell him what to do. I can only promise you that I have no intention of hurting him— declares the surrendered singer playing with the sheets under his fingers. 

—Knowing Fletch, you've already done it— the guitarist whispers almost silently so that Dave won't hear him.

—Things are not as you imagine it, you think I force him or that I treat him badly. Everything that happened was because we both want it. Didn't he tell you?— doubts the black-haired man, settling in the middle of the king-size bed

—Yes, still, you took advantage of him— replied the curly one, clenching his fists still in his march.

—And how not to do it? You've seen him? He's not your little friend from school anymore. Now he is a handsome man, not in the way the world sees him— Gahan is silent not knowing how to express the ideas he has.

It would be strange if the words in his mind were to leave his lips.

Attractive, attraction didn't count only physically and if it did, Fletch was not bad at all. He had a drawn face, an unconventional but curious body. Frankly what Dave liked was listening to him, he had a strange voice that he hadn't heard in another person.

The way he smiled, the way he observed things, how he constantly had to adjust his glasses. He loved details, he loved the "Big Fletcher" doing something silly with the most mature and intelligent expression you could have.

Andy was like a surprise box, a colorful little clown. He was Fletch, the boy in the back, the tall ginger man, the keyboardist in the shadows. Sometimes he was envious of the relationship Mart and Andy had, the almost spiritual connection they shared. 

The only thing the two of them shared was a bed, a chain of gasps, and an intense orgasm. Dave didn't know how to ask for more. 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mart finally leaves Gahan's presence, if he sees him for another minute he will beat him up, the cure will be worse than the disease. Alan returns with his hands on his waist, feeling pity for the blond. 

Gore's luminous emeralds collide with his sapphires only to see that Wilder had been with Dan. 

—What did Miller say?— Asks Martin biting his mouth. 

—Dan said let's wait until nine o'clock, after that he'll call the police— the chestnut sighs in disgust, he thinks they should give Fletch his own space. Time to think, reason was necessary. 

The shorter one curses under his breath caressing his own face. Alan has an idea to calm him down. 

—Come with me, let's go down to the bar. We'll wait for Andy there— offers the blue-eyed swinging near Mart 

The curly man certainly thinks it's not the best time to drink, but he must be away from Dave or he risks losing his temper.

Maybe Wilder was the only friend he had left. With a timid nod on his face they leave together to the elevator without another word

Alan's movements are slow, he follows Gore only with his eyes, talking with them.

The journey to the hotel bar is cold, quiet. There's not much it can be said now, later when alcohol become their owner it will be easy to chat, as if they were best friends of a lifetime.

Alan's first order is a whiskey, his "food" lately on the tour.

Martin feels anxious so he decides to spoil himself by choosing a Gin Tonic

They both tremble in the yellow light from the lamps as their lips travel to the rim of the glasses.

—We should have been much closer together, didn't we?— The chestnut suddenly declares, sipping from the glass.

—You and Andy? Or Dave and Fletch? What do you mean?—

—I mean, we didn't do much to agree, we're such fools. Not even you and me. We must have been good friends— nostalgia flies over Alan's good-boy face, makes Gore smile under the soft glass

—I panicked when you wanted to kiss me, friends and what else? You scared me— laughs carelessly the blond happy to remember it

—You deserved it, in the end we ended up swimming away like strangers down the river to find ourselves imprisoned in the same pond just like fishes—

—Really, close your mouth Wilder, your metaphors are really maddening— laughs the curly man to finish his drink with just one sip

—Martin... Tell me what you know— the musician orders almost as if it were a sung phrase.

The guitarist rolls his eyes believing that Wilder is stupid. Why would he betray his friend?

—Leave me alone, Al. You know everything that happens in the band—

—Bollocks! You're hiding something from me— Wilder raises his voice, leaving the amber drink aside.

—If you wanna know something ask Dave. I'm not his babysitter or his older brother—

Gore is ready to leave until Alan's hand takes his crotch in a tight grip that forces him to sit back under a groan of sorrow.

—Tell me what you know or I won't let you go— the blue-eyed replied adjusting his squirm

—You're not gonna get anything w-whit that, jus-... just shut me up even longer— the guitarist groans to feel Alan's hand change position. Instead of squeezing him hard, brush against his masculinity to make him speak

The hot caresses go up and down the fabric of the pants and it's worthy of a professional but Martin calls to reason when he knows that it's the neck of his best friend

Despite this, he enjoys the slow caresses in his sensitive place meanwhile deciding whether to speak or not.

—You won't tell me? Come on Mart... Please me and I'll return the gesture— Martin has no idea if it's a threat, a promise or a request

—Stop...— the blond gasps in defense to stop Wilder's hand. —You can't get things with that— laughs the songwriter again trying to catch his breath.

—You don't trust me?— The blue-eyed honeyed purrs trying to convince him

—Dave wasn't your little darling? Ask him, don't bother me— asks the guitarist taking his drink equally

—You are difficult to convince, Mart. Still you can't lie to me. That's the difference between you and Dave— the keyboardist sighs gloomily.

The blond smirks to take Alan's anguished face and kiss his cheek

Wilder blushes with a hysterical giggle as Mart watches him in detail


	10. Chapter 10

Dave wakes up like a long time ago, between the warm sheets, alone. He was never alone, since the tour started he collected a different lover at each show, at each concert, at each afterparty.  
He was a true sweetheart and he showed it to whoever was in his way that he was much better than the other dudes.  
It was a matter of pride with nothing more to add.

Martin left him in his deep sleep, the little canary fled before facing Gahan's judgment again.

The black-haired man stands up like a lazy child grumbling on the edge of the bed. Alan isn't there either. Much less think about Andy.

The room is silent, the only thing audible are the delicate footsteps on the hotel carpet, the sound of the street between the linen curtains.  
Grab his shoes watching the dull light coming through the window. How much had he slept? Why didn't they wake him up?

He try to open his eyes but they hurt. Opt to lean against the window and look a little over the city.

Large silver buildings gleam in the already night light, some fast-traveling cars meet. People, people who walk incessantly.

Dave felt close and far from people. Very few times in life they didn't understand him, but the times it happened, he wondered if it really was a connection with people.

Children screaming on swings, slides, or just running with each other remind him of Jack. His heart sinks again when he thinks that his little son is one of the people he is hurting with his decisions. Jo was too good for him. He had plunged her into a sea of sadness, yet she forgave him to understand he didn't loved her anymore, that he was tired of the life they led together although she hardly ever saw him.  
What hypocrisy.

"Hypocrite" he thinks to himself as he feels his throat burn. The small park is colorful, it has benches of different fun colors, one red, one blue, one yellow; a green one and... a pink one... Was that Andy the one sitting on the pink bench with his hands clasped? 

What the hell he was doing there? In a park on a bench with nothing to do, just watching time go by 

He shakes his head to grip the curtains tightly, he won't go for him. Of course not, he never looked for him when he was lost, he would not return an unpaid favor. The singer breathes calmly to look away. He gets up to the bathroom thinking about what he will order for dinner, what drink he will order, perhaps Champagne to celebrate the resounding success of the band. Alan and Mart must have been ahead of him. 

Wash his face with cold water to calm the restlessness he carry inside. He returns to the room taking a soft towel from the hotel furniture to dry his face, the fabric looks like cotton, it smells like magnolias. From among his bulky luggage he takes his jean jacket. Comb his hair while letting out a winning smile, a night like no other... So why doesn't it feel complete? He grumbles against his sense of guilt that makes him think. 

He takes the room keys to turn around, he presses the elevator's's button while biting his own lips 

"I should go for him" stimulates his reasonable side but he refuses to listen. What do he cares? What does Andy mean to him? Except one night of submission. He enters the elevator where he's alone again. Andy looked worried... He looked sad.   
And? Does it matters? What is the problem? Dave wishes he had a switch to shake off those useless feelings.

There was nothing worse than being haunted by his own mind. The things that were happening around him overwhelmed him, he felt heavy. A fake grimace shows no happiness in his life. 

He was Dave Gahan, but his joy was trickling down the pipe. As he gets out of the elevator, he can see Alan flirting with some woman who has appeared everywhere since they have known her name. Martin across the table reinforces the chestnut's swagger by praising him devoutly. Would it be a double shift then?

The singer's stomach feels sick thinking about it. He should go there, sit next to the blond and chat with the stranger about Alan. Make him look like the inner god of studio and the older brother he would have loved to have. 

He should be flirtatious and charming. He should smile like every night through useless adulations to his talent. The glibness of the people drowned him as if he were bathing in a lead pool. The woman looked fresh, ready. Perhaps ordinary but fascinating.

He had that or much more every day, at all times, in all places. Women who could give him half of his soul to end up in his bed. Sex was powerful... But sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes it wasn't the least bit pleasant. As if he were lost in the middle of the hotel, he waits, he waits for the soft voice of his heart. His heart it quiets lately, he lets his conscience take control of him without mercy. It's a devastating feeling to have to tear himself apart without knowing what to do or say. Every time he tries it seems like it goes wrong.

He could go find the ginger man, speak sweetly in his ear to convince him to be his again, finally be able to seal the nonexistent relationship between the two because... What was that but a ghostly dependency? Their pupils talked to each other telling how much they wanted each other.

It was a slow, lonely, masochistic relationship. It was like helium that burns but cools at the same time.  
It was caprice with motives.

Of all the times they fought, his favorite part was making up the next day.  
It pained him to think that Andy was bothered by his presence, but he was gratified to know that he caused a tangle of sparks in Fletcher's fragile collective peace.  
He loved being the cause of his nervous sleeplessness.

Maybe he had to bite the bullet to achieve a mission. Which one? The feeling there was nothing but those two wonderful legs driving him deep into his ecstasy?

A grin shows on his face without remorse. He abandons the way to the table of his boys to look for the rebellious bird in the square.  
He emerges triumphantly from the door to breathe in the toxic scent of the city.  
Dry leaves fall faintly on the sidewalk, cars run fast.  
Andy looks like a poorly drawn cartoon in the middle of an inappropriate environment.  
Sometimes he watches the children, sometimes he watches the threatening sky of rain. It's getting dark slowly without anyone's permission.  
The black-haired man sighs behind him to cover Andy's blue eyes with both hands.

—I know it's you, Dave. Neither Mart nor Alan have such soft hands or with so many accessories— the redhead manages to say, stroking the bracelets on Dave's wrist, making him feel some tickles, managing to hear him laugh with his intoxicating smile

—What are you doing here?— Doubts the singer sitting next to him.

—I plan my life, you know— the keyboardist answers without anything to add.

—You're planning your life? Half of my life was by sheer luck and the other half was happening just because— Gahan shrugs, turning Andy's phrase into a nonsensical idea.

—Just because? Dave, Dave, Dave— repeats the one with his scarlet locks then murmurs —Nothing happens just because, they are consequences of your decisions taken—

—Consequences, decisions. It bores me to think about it— he huffs like a child to observe the dancing indigo sky

—I want to have a child— the keyboardist suddenly exclaims, leaving Gahan petrified

If he had been a girl she would have started crying for no apparent reason, she would use the excuse of being too young and thoughtless to raise a child but he was not asking him. He commented on it as part of his wishes, which impressed him twice as much.

Andy opening up for him? What had they done with him?

—Congratulations then. Does Grainne want a child the same?— asks the youngest, pulling his bracelets in anxiety

—It's something we should talk about but yes. Either way we should get married—

For a moment it seems like a fantasy, thinking about marriage and weddings. When he was a little younger he hated the idea of children.  
It seemed like a waste of time, having to think about babies when the job demanded full time, plus Andy had an adult with attitudes of a small child to take care of: Martin.

—So… is your time to grow up?— Dave laughs to feel some raindrops falling.

—I want a change in my life, if I don't do it for myself, I won't have opportunities— reflects the redhead, his face looks stubborn, fearful.

—I'm sure you will be a good father.— Gahan's heart rises to his throat where guilt invades him. Jack deserved a responsible father, until now he had behaved like a teenager without control, without responsibilities

Again thinking of Jo is inevitable. She matured long before him, accepted the change by clinging to her son.  
Dave on the other hand... He fled from responsibilities to run into the unknown.

Rain slides off the clouds in tiny drops, children and parents run from the park.  
The singer doesn't know whether to rush Fletch or not.  
They'll get wet, anyway...

—When I get married, when I have a baby, the band's things will be in third place— Andy says to breathe normally again

—And?— Asks the black-haired man shuddering inside his jacket

—But first... If I have to be the perfect husband, I don't want to hurt Grainne again. I want to fall into sin without guilt, I want you to show me-...— he stops when he sees the singer's silly expression

—I'll give you what I have if you give me what you have, fair games— Basildon's talent reports as if it were business.

—It sounds fair. Your secrets for mine?— 

David laughs gently rolling his own neck.

—Better tell me your secrets while I tend to your needs— The provocative tone he uses every time he hints at makes Andy wince.

—Then it will be your yearnings for my needs— ends by sentencing the taller man rising from the bench

—What do you want to do today?— He whispers, following behind him.

—Today... tonight... we can play.—

The rain intensifies as they both walk to the hotel again. The night looks perfect to succumb.


	11. Chapter 11

The rain falls from the sky in the form of a deluge, both of them tense when entering the hotel. It's still early but the plan is done.  
Dan has said that if Andy didn't come back before nine he would call the police.

Well, there he is with his wet hair, the raindrops sliding from his face, Dave next to him with a grimace of few friends. The lobby is packed with all the people who enter and leave with luggage included.

Mart, the stranger, and Alan are no longer at the table. Dave assumes they will have their own fun.  
Andy sighs somewhat anguished when he sees Dan approaching him, part of the team is after him but they let Miller take control of the situation.

—There you are! Do you have any idea of the affliction you gave us all?— Daniel reproaches the redhead

—Relax Miller, here I am. Dave is very good at finding things— Andy smirks.

—Did you really look for him?— The older man doubts with a softer voice.

—I...— Gahan is shy, especially when it comes to recognition

—He did. I guess I owe you an apology and everyone in the production— affirms the taller one, slipping through the crowd to lower his head. Go upstairs without even looking at Dave

Hadn't he told him they would play tonight? The boys in the production are divided, some thank God that no cameraman was around.

—Thanks laddie, I have no idea what's wrong with Andy but he's been out of control lately— Dan gratifies but the raven barely hears him.

—He's part of the band, if something happens to him, it happens to all of us. Besides, Mart would never forgive me if I didn't find him—

Without much to say, Miller nods, pats him on the shoulder to get on with business.  
The canceled interview would be rescheduled for the following day before leaving.

They would leave the city to travel again.

The singer hides a calm expression as he walks the same steps as Fletch. Why was he going upstairs? Why wasn't he taking the elevator?  
He could see him with his hands in his pockets, the leather jacket at his back barely supported by one of his wonderful shoulders.

He wish no one saw him chasing Fletcher up the ladder in a rush to grab his wrist. Would photographers be obsessive marauders?

—Hey, wait— Gahan speaks slowly so as not to be heard, he takes the keyboardist's hand almost without thinking stopping him

—What's wrong with you?— Fletcher asks, releasing himself from the grip.

—I thought...— hesitates the youngest confused but Andrew laughs silently

—Do you really think I'll be so obvious to show that I have any interest in you in front of them?— Indicates the redhead with his face.

Dave can't believe this is Andy, the shy keyboard boy. Who is this sensual man who handles him with the slow rhythm of his hips?

—Hurry up, come on— he stops on the last step referring to his room

The singer goes up quickly observing the hall of rooms.

—Come with me— commands the ginger guy, shaking his locks that still have some raindrops

He opens the door with robotic frivolity. Dave swallows a lump in his throat without reproach, between tremors he enters the room feeling the adjoining breeze as the door closes under the sound of the key

Dave looks around, the interior looks neat, like Andy isn't occupying the place. The bed looks immaculate.

Some flowers in a beautiful vase rest on the nightstand, an adorable single armchair looks like a classic detail next to the window now closed and covered by the fine curtains.

The bedside lamp combining with the ceiling light, a small chandelier resembling a small constellation.

Dave gasps as he takes off his plain jean jacket to lay it on the couch.

Before turning around, Andy's heavy breathing on the back of his neck makes him shiver as a feeling of shyness haunts him. Fletch's long hands grip his hips, his arms encircle his waist.  
The keyboard player's warm mouth steals a few broken sighs as he nibbles part of his neck, the taller's body clinging to the shivering singer.

—What do you want me to do?— His lips whisper close to his ear, Dave cursing inwardly.

—I don't know, that's your decision— laughs the baritone, caressing other's hands with his fingers.

—Did you become submissive? I don't believe it— points the keyboardist between giggles and gasps

—Surprise me— urges the black-haired man biting his lower lip

Andy suddenly lets go of by taking off his jacket.  
His eyes are shy, he wants to say something but his tongue refuses to move

—What's up Fletch?— Gahan denies frustrated because the redhead doesn't know the game.

—Could you...? Could you lie down on the bed?— Andy asks hesitantly

—Oh silly, you shouldn't ask, you have to do it— Gahan explains amusingly.

Andrew is a bit terrified as he takes Dave's wrist to lead him to bed.  
The brand new singer smirks as he gets carried away.

Gahan guesses his intentions, he lies down on the mattress helping the groggy keyboard player a bit, he can see his terrified face.  
Fletch lets his instinctual side come to the surface, he lies on top of the tempting black-haired man, his good-looking features barely inches away from him. It's the second time that he feels the need to have it only for himself. Jealous? Impossible, being jealous of everyone who loved and desired Dave was like trying to stop a crystal rose from being cut.

There are no words, again. The singer's narrowed eyelids disturb the little remaining tranquility within Fletch. His mouth begs in desperate whimpers to be slowly longingly kissed.

The redhead loses himself in all the perfect things that Gahan possesses, he ghosts over the younger man's face. His lips run over his cheeks, his jaw lines. His chin, his velvety neck. His reddish hair is gently pulled by Gahan's hand who gasps in despair from his ghoulish games.  
David's t-shirt interrupts his physical fantasies making the ginger guy grunt in discontent.

—I'm sorry— giggles Gahan stood up a bit to yank it off.

Fletcher just gives a short smile as he studies the semi-naked body in view.  
He attacks with his warm lips the delicate shoulders, forcing its owner to lie down again.  
Malice beats him, he tends to the singer's nipples making him gasp with pleasure as his chest rises.  
He sucks gently, sometimes nibbles slowly, or runs his tongue over them in circles.

David stops panting to breathe hard as he strokes the keyboard player's hair but his tongue soon leaves his chest to go down to his abdomen, his belly now covered with short kisses that tickle him although he refuses to laugh, luckily Andy has his eyes closed.

The tension increases when the taller's wet lips stop as they observe the belt that denies him the step to the next level.

—Should I...?— He asks, kneeling on the floor, the black-haired man slides down to leave his legs on the edge of the bed.

Dave denies, he hasn't learned anything yet.

—I give you permission to do whatever you want, don't ask again— the black-haired man despairs placing his head on the mattress

Is that the gates of hell or is just the sound of the belt buckle opening?

—If I'm going to...— Fletch mutters embarrassed, catching Gahan's attention again.

—Suck it?— The gray-eyed corrects

—If I'm going to do it, I have rules, I want you to respect them. Number one: your hands on yourself. Number two: you will not move a part of your body. Number three: you have no right to order me around. I remind you that you agreed to this too—

David nods leaning back to feel Fletcher's hands gently lower his pants to his knees, he takes a few moments of pause before lowering the singer's underwear.

Leave Dave's shaft outdoors. At first glance it's quite large, in his consciousness he doubts if the length will fit fully in his mouth.  
Long, throbbing and wet.  
The redhead starts to masturbate him gently so as not to get stuck on the floor in his conclusions, just like a dick. Ironic.

Wet his lips without stopping to taste the tip of the sex. He thought he would feel some aversion but now he enjoys it, actually... It tastes bittersweet and that drives him crazy. Suck the tip hard to hear how the singer screams when he feels his member tight between two skilled lips

In Gahan's fantasy world, everyone fulfills his wishes as if he were a god. In a way he is a god, full of subjects and worshipers. Full of vain love, overflowing with invisible requests.

He was a master, lord, monarch.

Andy is one of many, one of the crowd.  
David refuses to look at him, a bit out of modesty, a bit because he knows it will make him feel bad. He bites his own mouth feeling the redhead's skillful tongue rising and then falling over his masculinity.  
His lips slide leaving a trace of doom.

His thoughts mix with his feelings. Think again between pleasure and a little misery. Feelings? What feelings?

Dave tries to erase those memories with every gasp his throat creates, with every suck.

There was once an innocent part that perhaps felt safe with Andy. He seemed so confident, so sober.  
Funny, smart and optimistic, those were the things that captivated him. Perhaps he was not precious as Martin or musically skilled as Vince or he did not possess Alan's genius but something about his simplicity pleased him. It was a dusty spell that he had forgotten.

He remembered the times his heart bounced hard against his chest, how nerves got the better of him. It was love. In fact... he forgot even the kiss he stole from him.

—Everything okay?— Asks the keyboardist, noticing his apparent disinterest. Was he doing it wrong?

—Huh? I'm sorry, nothing happens— declares the black-haired man, observing him with small glances, he cannot avoid the morbidity of seeing Fletch with his hardness on his mouth, the ginger guy smiles at him showing him how good he is by getting his entire length with a small grunt to make him tremble.

—You're so dirty, you know that love?— gasps David closing his fist under the covers

—You're such turn on, you know that sweetheart?— He replies between laughs with the characteristic "Fletcher" humor

Gahan despairs among moans, if it were his will he would grab part of his locks to force him to go fast. Andy tries his best to linger. He knows: he's teasing him.

—Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Let me touch you, please And— the desperate sigh pleases Fletch

Release the erection to masturbate it with both hands.

—You wanna touch me? Beg for it— order the tallest by squeezing the vibrating member between his hands.

—Please! Pretty please, please please please. Let me touch you, just this once— asks in a light voice

Andrew decides to be condescending, pulling his thighs toward the edge of the bed while David straightens up. Takes his own penis jerking it.

—If you do something I don't like, I'll break your nose. Did you hear me?— Threatens the keyboardist

—Just do your part— sighs the other releasing

Again his tongue draws the line all the way down this time a little faster.

—Oh hell! Yeah! Just like that...— whispers the black-haired man, throwing his head back as his fingers grip Fletcher's hair in a gentle grip.

Andy is confused between controversy, taste and submission. Submissive...

His eyes speak to him from the ground where he is, he's his toy, his object and those blue eyes make Dave out of control. He's so sweet and naughty at the same time.

—Now we are talking!— laughs Dave pushing him down a bit

—You wanna fuck my mouth? You wanna cum?— asks the redhead between moans playing with Gahan's cock

—Oh God, yes— Dave closes his eyes inwardly begging

Andy releases the hardness to rub it against his lips, against his neck and his jaw

—Cum, cum for me baby— Dave has a strange feeling every time Fletch calls him like that.

He doesn't think about it much, he takes his own member with an aggressive rhythm while Andy waits on his knees for his "reward"

He looks out of control, totally lost and that prompts the singer.

A few more shakes and he comes in an explosive moan as the thick white cream hits Fletcher's lips. The tallest one is not disturbed, he only sighs in surprise every time he receives a jet.

One, two, three. Three glorious jets that leave him exhausted but satisfied, he didn't even realize he was sweating uncontrollably.  
He takes Andy's chin standing up, thrusting his cock into the other's mouth, emptying his belly with a few remaining drops.

—You sodding beautiful slut... You're too good to be a beginner at this— he sighs with need for air caressing Fletch's face with his fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naughty hard love


	12. Chapter 12

On the bus the images of the route seemed to blur into moving pictures that made him dizzy, Dave didn't want company.  
Mart and Andy played cards with their new american friends, ignoring the fact that he was looking at them from time to time.

Sex was like a glass of wine, when you just start everything seems to taste the same but as the years go by you become a true taster, capable of recognizing a true wine of the best class or a low quality one.  
Dave believed that Fletch's wine was good, it had an addictive grape so to speak.

He smiled from the corner of his mouth believing that the idea was disturbing him, Andy had explained it to him in the square: he was only a last whim before committing himself to his future wife, before being the man that surely many would want him to be.

Who was he to say? Actually, he was not interested in what might happen to him except that he was missing or ill and that was it.  
No feelings, no problems.  
Alan had opted for solitude in the same way, his best profile was infatuated with the crystal clear window of the bus.

The other members of the production were chatting, Mr. Franks and Daniel seemed to have a friendly battle in the small compartment of the vehicle, with ballots in hand.  
It was probably the way the press treated them.

Anton emerged from one of the unoccupied seats with his blessed camera.

Dave disliked the flash in a talkative little growl.

—Anton, I'm not in a good mood— the black-haired man complained, stroking his own neck in despair.

—Come, come Davey, what's wrong with you? You are a super star and the stars don't complain about the cameras, they pose for the photographers with joy, I do not expect more from you. Neither me nor Miller— reported the photographer trying to dilute Gahan's bad mood

—Today I want to be someone normal— The languor in the singer's voice was worrying, contrary to expected responsibility, Anton laughed out loud.

—You love attention! You love that people see you, that they recognize you on the street or wherever you go. You can't lie to me boy, I've known you for years— the Dutchman recalled adjusting his camera.

—Believe me, there are days when I would like to be ordinary—

—Wow, Miller was right then, this tour is getting to you— Surprised Corbij shrugged his shoulders with an exclamation.

So Miller was talking about him?

—Anything else I should know?— The black-haired man hesitated, nibbling his thumb.

—You mean Miller? Says you're doing too many shows these days... well, all actually. Dan doesn't quite like the way Martin organizes the parties— Anton's gaudy accent calmed him down but now he felt only an uneasiness that anyone outside of the band would probably see.

He gave the merry group a sideways glance again when Martin complained that they were cheating while the others clapped mockingly.

—Hey Dave, calm down. You will not fix anything by suffering from a panic attack. Is this about your girl?— inquired the other while Gahan still had his gaze on the other end

—She? No, my baby is a naughty kitten but she doesn't bring me problems—

—Then relax, you don't have to worry—

Relaxation wasn't exactly what Dave was addressing at the time.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The hotel they stayed in looked retro, like from the 1950s, but no one had the strength or the desire to complain. That the bed was comfortable everyone would be happy.  
The night was strangely common, the garden lights illuminated the pool in the middle of the place, the roads were somewhat distant from the hotel so the crickets and small cicadas were singing announcing the pleasant summer heat.

Dave had promised Alan that they would go out to dinner together without the pesky friends around.  
He supposed he wanted some privacy after all the collective hubbub.  
He waited for him in the hotel room which was the size of several rooms, at least Dan had good taste in choosing hotels and residences.  
Now, the little topic they had to talk about about the break that everyone deserved was somewhat resonant.

All the brightness and the color were slowly fading away, giving way to monotony, they were bored with each other.

The wicker chairs were not his favorites, although it was fun to imagine that he was in the middle of a paradisiacal beach far from everything that suffocated him.

Martin and his court were coming down the stairs prepared to destroy some unfortunate bar, the blond approached Dave. The singer laughed under the palm of his hand believing that the police would arrive at the hotel informing that they would be taken prisoner.

—What are you laughing at?— Asked the keyboardist to which Gahan cleared his throat

—Nothing special. Have you seen Alan? I've been waiting for him forever in here— Dave exaggerated, throwing his head back.

—Still in his room, you know Alan's ritual— Martin rolled his eyes, sure it was all an exaggeration.

—Still, it takes longer than you— the black-haired man finally snapped.

—Well, I don't want to look attractive today, I just want to have fun—

—Have fun? Tell me, what's the fun of getting drunk? Vandalize a place? Tell the whole world the sad story of your life?— the black-haired man in an invisible cloak of evil numbered with his fingers

—Some of us don't take life as extremely methodical as you do, but we find fun in simple things. Maybe that's why Alan goes around with you and not with me or Andy— naming him reminded the singer of his existence while the guitarist grappled with his bleached curls.

—Where is he?— He asked uneasily observing the details of the carpet that did not interest him at all.

—Andy? Also in his room. In the end, they are both in love with their reflections in the mirror— hissed the green-eyed man.

—Mart? Are you coming or staying?— One of his friends asked from the hotel door

—I'm coming— the blond shouted, adjusting the black T-shirt he was wearing. —Have fun with Al, forget about Fletch, would you?— His last sentence said, he left with an echo of the boots he was wearing.

Forget about Fletch? Puff, Fletch should forget about him if he could.  
He would not find anyone more attractive to pay attention to him or anyone so free as not to feel anything by remarking on the disposableness of the situation.  
As if it were a spell, Fletch came down the stairs fighting with the buttons on the sleeves, as usual.

The redhead didn't react to Dave's presence, if he wanted to be there then fine.  
Unimportant he stroked his hair trying to calm the nerves that caused him to run into him.

—You leave with the circus?— Laughed the singer referring to the colorful group

—With who else? Do you think I have some kind of private date? I have to bring Mart anyway, I'll have to drag him if necessary— snapped the keyboardist, studying the other's taciturn smile.

His incredibly tight lips in an unparalleled gesture that implied many things in a single gesture

Ruby lips that moistened the keyboard player's corrupted imagination.

—Can I hope to... see you tonight?— the singer rethought.

Andy sighed under a sound of doubt.

—I don't think so, I don't think Alan will leave you alone tonight. Unless I'm drunk, maybe then I'll scratch your door, begging you to open... the door for me— the redhead corrected in time, giving him a quick inspection from top to bottom.

—Maybe maybe. It depends on how you beg me. By the way, how will you beg me?— with a playful look Dave incited his partner to give the sweet anticipated desire a taste

—Oh, you will know. If you like how I beg, maybe you will make me implore for you—

—At this point on the road I don't think I have to get fancy. You can ask me, you know I'll give it to you—

Fletch internally admitted that flirting came easy for Dave.  
You could flirt with him for hours, still he would know how to respond to each of the compliments.

—So it's quantity and not quality?— Fletch cackled, trying to figure out what he meant.

—Something like that. I like how you make me feel—

Feel? Pleasure? Love? Desire? Fear? Or euphoria? What exactly did he make him feel?  
Andy gave a little snicker.

—If your captor lets you free, look for me—  
An obvious phrase to leave later

Dave believed that the whole tepid scene was carried away by Andy with the cold air that he left when he walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses, I just get fun writings writing this

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a new fic and I want you to know that it will be several chapters, it's just that I'm new here and I don't have the slightest idea how to order them, LOL. This fic is actually an idea that I already had drawn in my mind. The only inspiration I have is the fragments of the documentary 101. It is not my intention that anyone be offended, I am very sorry if this is not one of the best known ships within the fandom but I wanted to do something new, it seemed right to write a Dandy [Dave / Andy] because it's one of my favorites, it's weird, everyone hates it and it's adorable. I don't know if you noticed but Andy and Dave look super adorable together.


End file.
